


Confessions

by acronyx



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Best Friends, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-06 01:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16378550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acronyx/pseuds/acronyx
Summary: Katya has a confession to make.There was a time when she was sexually attracted to Trixie Mattel.And that happens to also include now. — But listen, romantic love is a fickle friend and what she's found with Trixie is too precious to be thrown away over something as unremarkable as attraction.At least that what she tries to tell herself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be centred around Trixie and Katya but there will be mentions of a struggling Sharon/Alaska throughout

Katya has a confession to make.

There was a time when she was sexually attracted to Trixie Mattel.

That time was definitely not when she first saw her.

Like most people who meet Trixie, Katya did not immediately understand the biting social commentary that is Trixie Mattel. There was no love at first sight or even an instinctive longing to see her out of that pink dress. There was only confusion.

Katya simply didn’t get it.

Here stood this person with enough contour and clip-in hair extensions to feed the starving children in Africa for a week. She had on what looked like twelve pairs of lashes at the very least and the overdraw of her lips went all the way up to her forehead.

It was a Wednesday.

Katya questioned her sanity.

Now, Katya would argue that’s not hypocritical. When you’re the embodiment of untreated mental illness you’re allowed to question other people’s mental health.

Of course Pearl, being Pearl, didn’t think of introducing anyone to anyone so the girl was left to make her own introductions.

When she announced that her name was “Trixie Mattel” Katya wanted to formally request a word with her parents on self-fulfilling prophecies. The only thing stopping her from commenting on their choice of name (besides basic common courtesy, but Katya didn’t have a lot of that anyway) was the fact that the next words out of the girl’s mouth were, “I’m a hair and makeup artist.”

Katya knew that since she last visited Pearl, her childhood friend had finally gotten signed with a modelling agency, which had always been a dream of hers. It would, therefore, make sense that she would have friends who were makeup artists but Katya was still visibly shocked. She didn’t really know what she expected because, looking back, Katya knows that no other occupation would have made the least bit of sense for Trixie. This striking creation of a plastic person could never be seen teaching kindergarten or manning the night-shift at McDonalds. At the time, however, she was incredulous to say the least.

Katya remembered to introduce herself but looked askance at Pearl, hoping she would provide some sort of explanation for this human doll she was now faced with. She immediately realised upon seeing Pearl huddled up with Violet on the bed that no such explanation was forthcoming. Pearl already had both hands full attempting to look bored while talking to Violet.

Katya knew, Violet knew, and a glance at Trixie confirmed that she, too, knew that Pearl was incapable of being bored while in the company of that girl but that didn’t stop her from constantly trying to project an air of nonchalance.

“Very flazéda,” Katya remarked, prompting something between a scream and a laugh from Trixie. Katya’s arms flailed slightly, her lips stretching in a wide grin brought on by slight shock and much enjoyment.

Her eyes immediately snapped back to Trixie's and fucking bam!

Sexual attraction.

—

Katya and Trixie became fast friends.

In fact, Katya would argue that they became instant friends. As soon as she had an actual conversation with the girl, Katya was completely enamoured by Trixie.

They found themselves spending quite a lot of time together. Katya’s new Los Angeles apartment was relatively tiny and since her roommate was in quite a tumultuous relationship, Katya often preferred to spend time elsewhere. That place, more often than not, being Pearl’s apartment.

As Katya and Trixie’s friendship grew, Katya found herself getting increasingly attracted to the girl. It wasn’t raw, uncontrollable lust. It was that odd kind of in between where you find yourself wanting to spend all your time with one person, whether you’re kissing, fucking, drinking coffee or sitting on opposite sides of the room, not even speaking.

Had Pearl not been the only person Katya really knew in LA before moving there perhaps she would have acted on her attraction. But as it was, Katya was dependant on Pearl for social interaction. And since Trixie was definitely closer to Pearl than she was, Katya knew that Trixie would get Pearl in the event of their divorce.

Being notoriously bad at exclusive committed romantic relationships and incapable of maintaining a friends with benefits type situation for long, Katya dared not take any chances.

Having just moved to a new foreign place, Katya desperately needed a support system. Especially with her recent decision (prompted by a slightly less recent hospitalisation and a more than slightly crying mother) to give up drugs. And since alcohol was no fun without drugs, that had to go too. All she had now were friends and as those had always been third on her list of favourite things, she didn’t have a lot of those.

With all this Katya was forced to impose her first LA rule: Trixie was off limits.

This rule was put to the test the first time Pearl successfully dragged Katya out to see her DJ.

Trixie’s makeup was no less extreme than it had been when Katya first met her (or any other time she’d seen her since, for that matter). If anything it was even more intense. Her eyes had bright pink accents, her hair was teased and curled to perfection and she was wearing, of all things, a sheer, pastel pink nightie.

If they had been at a slumber party this might not have been noteworthy but they were outside a club. In public. Surrounded by human people with eyes.

Many of those eyes understandably honed in on Trixie, and Katya found herself getting annoyed by people’s outward reactions to the girl. Many seemed confused and though Katya had also been so at first, she now felt so passionately about Trixie’s aesthetic that she had to fight the urge to go up to anyone who looked at her the wrong way and explain, not only the artistry behind the physical creation, but the reasons why they should love it.

Instead of doing that, Katya fished in her purse for a cigarette and lit it, believing, as she always did, that it would offer some relief. It never did.

“Hey, Katie,” Trixie said, “you know, those are really bad for you.” Ever since Katya had gone on a rant regarding how much she hated that very line, Trixie had gone out of her way to say it as often as possible.

In reply Katya just blew some smoke directly at Trixie

“You fucking bitch,” Trixie laughed, “I don’t want my extensions smelling like an assortment of filthy ashtrays.”

“No, I wouldn’t want you stealing my signature scent.”

Trixie laughed in the unabashed manner she always did and Katya felt the same measure of pride that always bloomed in her chest when she was the reason for Trixie’s amusement.

They traded playful insults for a while until Trixie’s eyes were drawn to something behind Katya, “there’s Kim,” she proclaimed, waving over a beautifully painted girl with immaculately styled pastel purple hair.

Now, Trixie was relatively tall but compared to this girl she could almost be perceived as short. Kim was probably about 7 feet without the added hight the hair gave her and a glance at her feet confirmed that her heels were not high enough to account for this. She was wearing a baby blue dress and deep red gloves, her necklace looked as though it was made from actual rosebuds.

In short, she looked good as hell.

Between her and Trixie Katya felt as though she had not been let in on the pastel theme of the night.

Pearl had told them that she would make sure their names were on the list at the door, so as soon as Kim arrived and introductions were out of the way Trixie turned to the bouncer and announced them.

Katya will admit that she felt ever so slightly like an A-lister when the bouncer checked off their names and admitted them while the line outside steadily lengthened.

Trixie, who had been here before, had already briefed her on the layout of the club and what their game plan for the evening was (though Katya doubted “I am going to dance enough to justify never going to the gym again and if you’re one of those people that needs to pee every fifteen minutes I will abandon you without feeling remorse” could really be called a game plan).

Trixie had informed her that the club was three floors, with a bar on each one. Downstairs housed nothing but the cloakroom, bathrooms and a small lounge area, centred around the smallest of the bars. Apparently, they were not going to “waste time” there so Katya had been instructed not to bring a coat. The ground floor evidently had the most expensive bar which Trixie had claimed was for “idiots, rich people, and idiot rich people.” There was also an enclosed VIP area and a small dance floor but apparently Pearl only had so much power and her list-putting abilities did not reach VIP levels.

In any case, Katya had been told they would be heading to the second floor, where the main dance floor was located.

“Bar,” Trixie announced immediately upon entering the club, heading directly towards the stairs, clearly expecting her two friends to simply follow behind, which they admittedly did.

As they climbed the stairs the music steadily grew in volume and Katya began to suspect that she should have brought earplugs to avoid early onset deafness.

When they reached the top Katya saw that they were in a small hallway of sorts that lead to the bar on one side and the dance floor on the other. Trixie didn’t hesitate in her pursuit of the first drink of the evening, leading Katya and Kim through to the bar and right up to it.

It wasn’t huge, the bar on the ground floor had been bigger, but they had a decent amount of tap beers and various bottles of liquor. There were a few barstools and tables on the opposite end of the room from the bar, the table tops visibly sticky with the remnants of sugary alcohol.

Katya couldn’t imagine they were the best place for casual conversation, given the loud music and tacky table tops. Perhaps they were then meant as observation decks for creepy old men, on the prowl for young girls who couldn’t hold their liquor.

Katya frowned at just such a man and turned back to her friends.

There were quite a few people waiting for drinks but with Trixie and Kim’s distinct looks and height advantage they didn’t have to wait long for service.

Before the bartender could even ask them what they wanted Trixie ordered three shots of whiskey.

“I don’t drink,” Katya reminded reminded her, the booming music demanding that she raise her voice quite a bit in order to be heard.

“What?” Trixie yelled back.

“I don’t drink,” Katya repeated, even more loudly.

“Bitch, I know, Kim doesn’t either,” she said, handing the bartender her card before downing two of the shots at once.

Her face immediately screwed up in a mask of disgust. “Oh, is this Jack?” she asked the bartender, looking as if she’d just bitten into a lemon. He nodded in confirmation, handing her card back to her. “That’s fucking cruel,” she said, coughing. However, that didn’t stop her from reaching for the last of the shots and downing that as well.

“That’s absolutely vile,” she said loudly in Katya’s ear, the scent of Jack Daniel’s strong on her breath, “I need to fucking make out with someone to get rid of this taste, lets dance!”

At that Katya found herself being dragged in the direction of a crowded dance floor, along with Kim, and if Katya had thought the music at the bar was loud then the volume they were faced with when they entered the huge room across the hall was truly astounding.

When they had fully merged with the crowd and found themselves in the middle of the dance floor, Trixie gave a little shoulder shimmy, shaking her breasts in Katya’s direction. “You wanna feel my titties?” Trixie she yelled over the booming music.

“Yeah,” Katya replied, placing a hand lightly on one of Trixie’s breasts.

“No squeeze them,” she yelled back.

“Oh, I thought you were going to shake them.” Katya squeezed her breast lightly feeling the hard outline of something in her bra, “I don’t- what is that?” She asked, confused.

“The solution to shitty whiskey,” Trixie shouted, pulling out a miniature bottle of Fireball (another brand of shitty whiskey, Katya would argue) and unscrewing it as if she hadn’t just downed three shots all by herself.

“In both tits?” Katya yelled poking at Trixie’s other one, finding a similar outline there.

“Yes, bitch!” Trixie hid the bottle again after taking a sip and then grabbed Katya’s hand once more, swaying happily to the song.

—

When the club closed, Katya, Kim and Trixie met up with Pearl and Violet, staying to help Pearl pack up all her stuff before heading back to her place for an after party of sorts.

Katya had known Pearl for years but they hadn’t been actively keeping up with each other since Pearl moved to LA and started doing the model and DJ thing full time. Therefore, Katya wasn’t familiar with a lot of her new friends.

In addition to Kim, Violet and Trixie, a beautiful, yet quiet girl named Max tagged along, and a frighteningly gorgeous woman who had introduced herself as “Miss Fame” was there with her husband, Patrick.

Katya had studied video and performance art at college and so she was used to being surrounded by artists but Pearl’s friends were into a completely different form of art than Katya was accustomed to. She was massively intrigued and a little bit intimidated by the change.

Miss Fame’s particular brand of art seemed to be perfection and although Katya desperately wanted to ask her how she managed to create that face with her own two hands, she also wanted to wish her good luck. Katya couldn’t imagine having to be perfect every every time you left the house, it sounded exhausting.

She was so relieved to realise upon talking with her that behind that scarily refined face she was actually a complete chicken nerd who grew up on a farm and didn’t know when to stop talking. It was also a relief not to be the only addict in the room. Although Fame’s problem had been with alcohol, not meth, there was a kind of solidarity there.

Katya took Pearl up on the offer of a joint (because perfection is exhausting and she had to have some vices) and then she huddled up on the floor next to Trixie, grateful that Kim had insisted they stop for food on the way to Pearl’s.

There was conversation and drinks and joints until, one by one, people started leaving or excusing themselves to find a place in the apartment to crash. 

Eventually Trixie and Katya were the only ones left. Katya was on her third blunt of the night, enjoying the calm, grateful that Pearl didn’t mind people smoking inside. She was sat on the floor, her back to the wall, with Trixie half asleep on her shoulder. The only sound heard was the slight ringing caused by the loudness of the music her ears had been subjected to that night. It didn’t bother her, if anything it added to the sense of calm that didn’t often exist within her.

“I’m going to smell disgusting when I wake up,” Trixie complained, her speech slightly slurred, yet she didn’t move away from Katya.

“That’s okay,” Katya replied, “you always do.”

Trixie snorted slightly and gave her arm a weak slap, apparently too tired to swap insults with her. “Where are we going to sleep?” she asked instead, her words swallowed up by a yawn. Katya didn’t remark that she was apparently already well on her way there.

“Well, Max is on the couch,” Katya said, “I suppose we could join Pearl and Violet in bed but I’d wager they’re naked.”

Trixie breathed a soft “ew” but didn’t open her eyes.

“I guess we could take an Uber to my place if you think you can stay awake that long.”

“Mmkay,” Trixie said faintly, yet still complained when Katya had to shuffle her around slightly to get her phone out of her bra. Then they sat in silence, Katya smoking and Trixie breathing deeply in a way that couldn’t really be called snoring but that Katya still vowed to tease her for in the morning.

Katya decided that this moment was a good moment. Her limbs felt heavy and for once her mind wasn’t running a million miles per hour. She was free to just enjoy this.

When the Uber arrived, Katya gently nudged Trixie, “wake up, it’s here,” she said, which prompted a slightly confused ‘mmph’ from her friend. “Trixie, the Uber is here,” she repeated, struggling to her feet, “and my arm is asleep from the weight of your head, how much does your fucking hair weigh?”

“Bitch,” Trixie replied as Katya helped her up, too tired to come up with a better rebuttal.

The taller of the two swayed slightly on her feet and grabbed a hold of Katya to keep her balance, “Uber then bed,” she slurred.

“Yes, Uber then bed,” Katya agreed, helping her down the stairs, she didn’t trust Trixie on heels right at that moment so instead she grabbed her shoes for her, allowing Trixie to walk to the Uber barefoot. Katya wondered if she even noticed in her state, she barely seemed more conscious than a sleepwalker.

Trixie fell asleep on Katya’s shoulder again and had to be woken up once more when they arrived outside Katya’s apartment.

Katya thanked the driver and helped Trixie up the stairs, only letting go of her to unlock the door. She pointed Trixie in the direction of the bedroom, threw her shoes to the side, and left to wash her own face.

Katya didn’t have a nightly routine so much as a nightly struggle to remove her makeup. Eventually she’d just come to live with the fact that the raccoon eye was going to be an ever precent part of her life so she started painting it on to cover the traces of what she couldn’t wash off.

It was the circle of life.

Deeming herself adequately free of makeup traces (though that was a liberal estimation) she brushed her teeth and went to join Trixie in bed.

When Katya entered the bedroom, semi fresh faced and clad in an oversized T shirt, she found Trixie sprawled across the bed, lying on top of the sheets.

“Scoot, bitch,” she said softly, nudging her over and pulling the blanket out from underneath Trixie’s body. There were some complaints from the taller blonde but eventually they got settled.

The slight glow of Katya’s alarm clock that now read six am allowed her to take in Trixie’s full post-party glamour. Her face was still remarkably in place though her lipstick had started to fade from her lips and now mostly existed as a ring around them.

Katya allowed her eyes to roam over Trixie’s face in the darkness. She found it odd how her perception of the girl had changed since she first saw her. These days, although she was aware of the extremity of her makeup it wasn’t really a point of focus anymore. She didn’t find it garish or gaudy, it was just Trixie. It was _so_ Trixie. But at the same time it didn’t define her. It was an aspect of her that was at once everything and nothing. That existed outside of her but was still an embodiment of her. Katya allowed the paradox to settle within her mind. She was at peace with it, just as she was at peace with the fact that she didn’t know quite in what way she loved Trixie. Just that she did.

“Why are you staring at me?” Trixie questioned sleepily, without opening her eyes.

“I wanna kiss you,” Katya replied, not really having meant to say it but not regretting that she did.

There was silence for a second before Trixie’s lips moved again. “Mmkay,” she replied, tilting her face up a little bit, her eyes still closed.

Katya leaned in and pressed a single soft kiss to Trixie’s lips, lingering slightly before pulling away. Trixie hummed, one corner of her lips pulling up into a small smile. “Your dad was right,” she said, grinning.

“You rotted cunt,” Katya said affectionately “I hate you.”

Trixie cracked one eye open, squinting at the slight light provided by the digital alarm clock. “I love you,” she said with a smile, snuggling back into the pillow. She was obviously exhausted but it had been a while since Katya had seen her remove either bottle from her bra to take a sip so she didn’t doubt the validity of her statement. She just accepted it and it was at once everything and nothing.

“C’mon, my hair’s too big to be the little spoon so that’s you.”

Katya huffed a laugh at Trixie’s whispered words, slightly slurred by sleep. “Okay,” she agreed, turning her back to her friend and allowing her to spoon her. There was a beat where neither of them spoke, where Katya simply allowed herself to enjoy being this physically close to someone she cared about. “I love you too,” she breathed finally, pulling Trixie’s arm slightly tighter around herself before drifting off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, I wrote the first two chapters of this in 2016 and then didn't touch it for a while.
> 
> I've started writing again and I have the first few chapters mostly worked out but how fast this gets updated rests entirely on how badly concentrating on my BA thesis goes.
> 
> I was going to wait until I'd handed in my thesis to publish any of it in an attempt to avoid distractions but here we are.


	2. Chapter 2

Katya has a confession to make.

There was a time when she was sexually attracted to Trixie Mattel.

And that first time Katya woke up with Trixie in her bed she didn’t think she’d ever been as attracted to anyone else, or indeed that she ever would be.

Trixie’s makeup was a mess. Her eyelashes were askew and the backcomb of her hair had deflated in a way that made her clip-in hair extensions extremely visible. The illusion was fully shattered and Katya was completely enthralled.

Recognising her train of thought as a dangerous one, Katya forced herself to get out of bed.

She threw her hair (that truly did smell like an assortment of filthy ashtrays) up in a messy ponytail and decided that since she was up, she might as well attempt to make some breakfast.

When Katya exited her room she found her roommate, Alaska, standing in the hallway, holding a piece of buttered toast and looking intently at something on the floor. Katya remembered to make sure the door was fully closed behind her, a precaution she rarely took.

Looking up at the sound of the door closing, Alaska raised a single single eyebrow at Katya. “Those are not your shoes,” she said, pointing at a pair of pink, fluffy platform heels that had been thrown haphazardly to the side, by the door. Her raspy voice dragged out the last word for what Katya deemed entirely too long. Alaska’s vocal fry was always worst in the mornings.

“Well spotted,” Katya responded, ducking into the kitchen.

Of course Alaska wasn’t deterred, she simply followed. “Did you bring a girl home?” She asked, obviously delighted at the prospect.

“Mom,” Katya said, turning to face Alaska who was happily leaning on the frame of the kitchen entrance, “Trixie is just a friend.”

“Oh, so her name is Trixie,” Alaska drawled, her grin almost predatory.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Katya stated. She turned back to the fridge, opening it up to see if there was anything in it worth the effort of consuming it.

A door opened somewhere in the apartment and Katya stiffened slightly at the sound, praying to every deity she remembered the name of that Trixie wasn’t about to walk in and be eaten alive by Alaska. She could hear the padding of bare feet on the parqueted floor in the hall but she wasn’t quite familiar enough with Trixie to be able to recognise the sound of her walk. Still, she didn’t turn around, feigning fascination in the limited contents of the fridge.

“Hey, babe.”

At the sound of Sharon’s voice, Katya closed the fridge, hopeful for a change of subject. She whipped around, “Sharon,” she gasped, placing her hand over her heart, “you really shouldn’t call me that in front of your girlfriend.”

Sharon just grinned from where she was crowding into Alaska’s space, practically draped over her.

Okay, so today was apparently a good day. With Sharon and Alaska you never really knew what you would get.

Alaska made eye contact with Katya, her hand coming up to gently rest on Sharon’s hip. “Especially since Katya has a girl in her room and we wouldn’t want her to think that she’s the other woman,” she drawled and Katya deflated. So much for a subject change.

“She does?” Sharon questioned, placing a couple of kisses just underneath Alaska’s jaw. She obviously wasn’t very interested in this development, or Katya’s love life in general, but was willing to indulge her girlfriend.

“She does,” Alaska confirmed, drawing out the words.

“Your interest in my love live is borderline sad,” Katya said, turning around and opening the fridge once more.

“What’s sad is your love life,” Alaska shot back, “anyway, I thought you said she was just a friend.”

Without looking at Alaska, Katya knew that the predatory grin was firmly back in place. Instead of answering her, Katya made for another change of subject “why is our fridge full of carrots?” She closed it once more, giving up on finding anything edible in there.

Alaska shrugged. “I like carrots.”

Katya snorted, “well, do we have anything besides bread and butter?” she asked then, deciding she might as well defer to Alaska’s expertise since her roommate had already gone through the pain of scavenging for food this morning.

“Carrots,” she answered immediately, not looking away from Sharon who now apparently had her full attention, Alaska’s thumb rubbing a slow circle into her hip. She flicked her eyes away from her girlfriend and to Katya, “No, we don’t even have bread anymore, this is the last slice we had,” she bit into the toast still held in her free hand, the one that wasn’t busy affirming her affection for Sharon. “Sorry.” She didn’t look very sorry.

“It’s fine,” Katya said, “we’ll just go out for breakfast.” She squeezed past the couple that was still firmly planted in the kitchen entrance and made her way down the hall.

“Tell your friend I said hello,” Alaska called behind her, wrapping herself around her girlfriend.

“I’m sure she’ll be delighted,” Katya returned, retreating into her bedroom.

She tried not to make much noise as she entered her room, assuming Trixie would still be fully passed out. However, when she climbed into bed, bringing her legs up into sukhasana, she heard a miserable groan from her friend. “Too much light,” she moaned, burying her head under the pillow, “turn off the sun.”

A small grin spread over Katya’s face, “you know, I would,” she said, “but I enjoy seeing you suffer.”

“You’re a wretched cunt.” Trixie burrowed even further underneath the pillow, her haystack of a hairdo sticking out from underneath it, her hands holding the pillow, pressing it slightly down to block out all light. Trixie’s nails were perfectly manicured, cut short and painted a pastel pink colour, they were likely they only part of her that hadn’t suffered any damage during their previous night out.

“That’s a fair assessment,” Katya agreed, “especially since I’m forcing you to go out for breakfast.”

Katya watched as Trixie’s grip on the pillow tightened and heard a muffled groan followed by a whine that sounded suspiciously like, “I hate you.”

“There’s no food in the apartment,” Katya explained, and then to prove that she wasn’t a total gila monster she added, in a hopeful tone, “I’ll buy you pancakes.”

There was a short silence before Trixie responded, “I don’t have my makeup with me.”

“Shame, or we could have just eaten that.” There was a small laugh from underneath the pillow and then a groan, likely from the headache it brought on. Still, Trixie’s response hadn’t sounded like a ‘no,’ but rather a simple statement of facts so Katya pushed a tiny bit. “Do you need it?” she asked, “You could borrow mine, if you want.”

“I’m quite particular about about makeup,” Trixie said and Katya laughed, knowing that it wasn’t meant as an insult. Trixie probably wouldn’t be overexcited by Katya’s small collection of drug store products. She was likely used to higher quantity as well as higher quality in her own products. Besides, Katya didn’t even think she owned a single pink lipstick. “Okay but if we’re going out I desperately need to shower,” Trixie conceded, peeking slightly out from underneath the pillow and cringing at the light.

“Sure,” Katya said, springing up, “I’ll find you a towel and show you how everything works.”

Trixie wasn’t quite so quick to get up, sitting up in bed and wincing. There was a soft “ow,” as Trixie brought her hands up to her breasts and, apparently realising what it was that caused her discomfort, drew two mostly empty bottles of fireball from her bra, “are you fucking kidding me?” she groaned, throwing the bottles on the bed, “you let me sleep like that?” she accusingly turned to Katya.

Two hands raised in surrender, Katya tried to hold back her laughter, “it’s not my fault you ruined your tits by sleeping on top of bottles all night.”

Trixie cupped both her breasts in her hands, they were obviously sore. She looked positively miserable, hungover and in pain. She brought her hands down to hold her bra slightly away from her chest and stared in shock down at her breasts, “Oh, my god, Katya, I genuinely did.” Then, pulling her bra down further she went on, “do you see this shit?”

There wasn’t even a moment for Katya to process the fact that Trixie was flashing her because each one of her breasts had a deep, red indent in the shape of a miniature bottle. Katya gasped and let out a scream of a laugh causing Trixie to wince slightly. She apologised immediately for the loudness of her reaction but her open mouthed grin stayed in place.

“You look like a failed attempt at making a sexy sobriety advertisement,” Katya remarked prompting an immediate “fuck you, bitch,” from Trixie.

“No, really,” she continued, “have you looked in a mirror?” It was clear by the look that crossed Trixie’s face that she had not yet seen herself this morning. Katya cackled, “girl, you look a mess,” she stated and reluctantly Trixie decided to get to her feet. She struggled to get up and set course for Katya’s wardrobe in order to make use of the mirror that was affixed to the door. She stumbled slightly, her body having trouble adjusting to its upright position and Katya kindly did not laugh at her. Much.

“No,” Trixie breathed upon seeing herself, drawing out the word. “Katya tell me I did not look half this rough last night.”

“I really, truly wish you had,” Katya admitted, giving a regretful sigh, “alas, this is the work of the pillow.”

“Why do you wish Miss Fame harm?” Trixie deadpanned, as she pealed what remained of her eyelashes off, “she would have had a heart attack if she saw me like this.”

“Why?” Katya asked in feigned perplexity, “It’s not that much worse than your face when you’re freshly done.”

Trixie turned to face Katya letting out a noise of disbelief. “I refuse to be bullied like this,” she stated, matter of fact, “we are no longer friends.”

Katya shrieked with enjoyment, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll buy you pancakes,” she promised.

“You can’t use the same pancakes to bribe me twice, bitch. I am not that cheap.”

“I’ll make out with you?” She proposed instead, shrugging.

Trixie snorted and smiled at Katya. “As if you wouldn’t be the only one to benefit from that.”

Their banter continued throughout the morning. As they made their way past the (thankfully) empty kitchen, as Katya showed Trixie how to get the heat on the shower somewhere between the watery version of being burned at the stake and ice diving, all through Trixie criticising Katya’s makeup remover and promising to get her a new one before exiling her from the bathroom. The only break they got from each other was the time it took Trixie to shower (though, to be honest, that took long enough for Katya to consider throwing caution to the wind and tracking down a dealer just for something to do).

She eventually emerged, looking considerably less hungover and corpse-like, something Trixie said was thanks to the three orgasms she’d treated herself to (apparently orgasms were a natural hangover remedy, who knew?) Katya didn’t dwell on her friend’s admittance (much) and she definitely didn’t file the mental pictures it conjured up away for a rainy day.

Since everything in Katya’s wardrobe was deemed unacceptable (either too red, too patterned or too both) Trixie wore the same see-through nightie she had on last night. She did, however borrow underwear and thigh-high sport socks. Katya didn’t dwell on that either.

They playfully argued all through breakfast where Trixie looked no less and no more beautiful than she did when wearing a full face of makeup and Katya was no less and no more confused by her feelings for her friend by the end of the morning than she had been when she fell asleep.

All told, their morning was relatively uneventful but enjoyable and Katya was home in time for lunch, this time entering the apartment sans Trixie.

When she opened the door, the apartment felt empty. The lights were all off, though the LA sun shone through the windows, providing ample light. There was no music and no Alaska sprawled on the couch, watching Project Runway or America’s Next Top Model reruns.

Katya had stopped by the grocery store on her way back from breakfast and so she headed for the fridge, to put her stuff away.

Upon entering the kitchen, that she had previously believed to be empty, she saw Alaska huddled up on the floor, in the corner. Her phone was held in her hand, eyes locked on the screen, her back was to the kitchen cupboards and her knees brought up to her chest, she was still wearing the same oversized t-shirt she had been when Katya last saw her.

Alaska was like a cat, she would sit anywhere she fit, so it wasn’t unusual to come across her sprawled across the floor. However, it was unusual for her to take up so little room and to be so inattentive as to not look up at the sound of someone entering a room, not to mention that there had been a noticeable lack of her signature greeting echoing throughout the apartment when Katya entered it.

She stood there for a moment, expecting Alaska to have some sort of reaction to her presence. When she didn’t, Katya decided to speak.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her words blunt but her tone soft.

Alaska startled slightly, as though she had not even realised that Katya was at home, much less in the room. Her eyes immediately met her roommates but for a second they were completely blank, as though Alaska wasn’t present at all. “What?” she breathed, before seemingly snapping out of it, “yeah, no, I’m fine,” she assured Katya, plastering on a smile that Katya might have bought had she not seen the vacant look in her eyes barely a moment before.

Still, she smiled back. “Okay,” she said, believing it was easier for both of them if she pretended to buy the lie.

Katya didn’t ask where Sharon was. It didn’t really matter where she’d gone, just that she’d apparently left when just two days ago Alaska had been overflowing with excitement, telling Katya all about their plans, since Sharon was scheduled to finally have a day off from work.

She didn’t say that she was sorry Alaska was sad or ask her if there was anything she could do to help. She just slid down beside her and took one of her hands in both of hers.

There was a moment where she just held it, stroking her thumb over Alaska’s knuckles in a way reminiscent of how Alaska had caressed Sharon’s hip this morning. The quiet didn’t last long, however. Katya had never been one for emotionally wrought silences. She brought Alaska’s hand to her lips, kissing it softly, before giving a mournful sigh. “Barbara, if you weren’t a married woman,” she said in one of her many character voices.

She gave Alaska a small smile that she hoped managed to convey that if she wanted to talk Katya would listen, but that she didn’t need to share. It was entirely possible she just looked constipated but judging by the way Alaska's expression softened in return, she was pretty certain she received the message.

In any case, she laughed and laid her head on Katya’s shoulder and if Katya had ever wondered whether they were friends or just roommates, all confusion was erased when Alaska’s hand gripped hers tighter and she whispered a small, “thank you.”

“Of course,” Katya said, squeezing Alaska’s hand back.

They just sat there, finding comfort in the quiet, until Alaska felt well enough for ice cream and trashy TV and then Katya was there for that too.

She knew it wasn’t how Alaska had imagined spending her day but as they lay draped on the couch, laughing at Tyra’s theatrics and the models’ petty drama, Katya was hopeful it wasn’t such a bad alternative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be detailing every day of the characters' lives, it's quite unusual for a chapter to pick off exactly where the last one left off, as this one does.


	3. Chapter 3

Katya has a confession to make.

There was a time when she was sexually attracted to Trixie Mattel.

Okay. Times, plural.

It wasn’t all the time, though.

Just sometimes.

For example, when Trixie was doing her makeup, ear splitting levels of Dolly Parton blaring in the background, and she’d done everything except her lips and looked demented by anyone’s standards. Katya couldn’t help but be attracted to her then.

Of course, she was also attracted to her when she’d put on the lips and the whole fantasy came together but that was to be expected. Trixie looked other-worldly when her makeup was done. In some ways so done up that she no longer looked human, in others so stripped bare and exposed. More human than Katya ever dared be.

She was also attracted to her when Trixie decided to forgo the coloured contacts she usually wore but that didn’t mean anything, Katya had always been a sucker for brown eyes.

Naturally, she was attracted to her when her face was completely washed clean and she donned a backwards baseball cap with some oversized t-shirt, not an ounce of pink in sight except for the stain around her lips that sometimes stayed for hours after she removed her lipstick. That was a side of Trixie she found particularly attractive, largely because it was how she was most comfortable, and perhaps partly because it was a side of her very few people ever got to see.

Often, she found that spark of attraction when Trixie told a particularly crass joke.

And, fuck, was she attracted to her when the Barbie fantasy was both contrasted and complimented by her tendency to scream her enjoyment, rather than laughing in a manner others might have found more acceptable.

Trixie never did anything by halves and that was perhaps what Katya found most attractive about her.

Pretty much every time Trixie broke the social norms, behaving in a way some would argue did not befit a young woman, Katya found the stirrings of attraction deep in her stomach.

But she wasn’t attracted to her all the time.

Not at all.

For example, she wasn’t attracted to her right now.

Katya is pretty sure she wouldn’t be attracted to anyone who woke her up before eight am on a Saturday.

“I’ve decided what my new year’s resolution is,” Trixie announced cheerfully, without so much as a greeting to give Katya a moment to adjust to the shift from being asleep to being expected to hold a conversation.

“Is it to buy a calendar?” She guessed, voice raspy with sleep, “as it is April and either too late or too soon to be making such resolutions.”

Trixie seemed unconcerned by this as she resolutely stated that “it’s never too late to begin the new year.” Katya decided not to challenge her on that. “And as a wise man once said, new year new me.” She paused as if waiting for Katya to either prompt her further or laugh but Katya didn’t really feel so inclined. She had half a mind to just go back to sleep and let Trixie have this conversation with herself.

Unperturbed by Katya’s lack of a response, Trixie soldiered on. “I’m embarking on a fitness journey,” she declared, as though she expected a deafening applause to erupt.

“Okay,” Katya drawled, still not having decided whether she was going to be a part of this conversation, “lets pretend that’s a real thing and that we both know what that means.”

“I’m joining a gym, I’m eating healthy, the whole nine yard, I’m embarking on this journey from today onwards, would you care to join me?”

Katya found herself thinking that if Trixie’s dream as a child had been to become a travelling salesman she was quite certain her sheer enthusiasm alone would have made her a roaring success. However, Katya had always been a hard sell.

“Absolutely not,” she replied, without remorse.

“Okay, well, I’m joining your gym so I wouldn’t be so quick to say no-“

“No,” she firmly interrupted, having already decided that Trixie’s apparent illusion that Katya would go in for any such thing needed to be nipped in the bud.

Trixie shrieked and though the loudness of it made Katya wince, she couldn’t help but smile at the reaction.

“When are you teaching again?” her friend asked instead of giving her the expended sales pitch that Katya was certain she had been gearing up for.

“I don’t know. You can probably find my hours on the gym website, did you have to wake me up for this conversation?”

“Absolutely,” Trixie replied, resolutely. “If you’re allowed to wake me up at 3 am on a weekday to discuss what a terrible place the world would be without laughter then I’m allowed this.”

Katya had no real argument to counteract that point as it really was fair enough. Instead she simply acknowledged Trixie’s good point, well made with a repeat of the thoughts that had come to her in the middle of the night, last week. “God, it would be such a terrible place though.”

“No,” Trixie stopped her, “we’ve had this conversation, now we’re having my conversation.”

Katya made a noncommittal grunt that sounded vaguely affirmative.

“Text me your classes and if I’m not there at least three times a week you have my formal permission to kick my butt.”

Katya snorted and responded, “what if I don’t want to kick your butt?”

“Since when have you ever denied an opportunity to come near my butt? I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of kicking it.”

Another grunt, more concrete in its affirmation this time.

“Okay, go back to sleep, you’re boring me. I’ll be there by noon to make green juices and a salad with you.”

Katya’s face screwed up in disgust at the very thought, “Ew, Tracy, no, you will not. I told you I refuse to be a part of your healthy road trip or whatever you dubbed it.”

“Fitness journey and I can’t hear you, I’m going through a tunnel!”

The line went dead before Katya could respond.

“Fucking bitch,” she muttered to herself, though the smile that always followed a conversation with Trixie was firmly in place.

Doubtful that she’d manage to fall asleep again what with the sunlight already forcing its way through her curtains, Katya seriously considered getting up and making coffee for several long minutes. Her musings only being cut short by her consciousness slowly slipping away as sleep dragged her back under.

When Katya next awoke it was to the simultaneous banging of her door and the ringing of her phone.

She didn’t know what year it was, much less what time but Trixie’s name flashing on her screen, paired with her ringtone, told her that ignoring the ruckus and going back to sleep was not a viable option.

Forcing her limbs into action Katya got up, grabbing her phone and accepting the phone call.

“If you damage my door, you’re buying me a new one,” she simply said in lieu of a proper greeting.

“You’ll have to take me to court over it,” Trixie replied though she did cease her vehement knocking which Katya considered a victory in and of itself.

“See you there,” she said, ending the phone call before opening the door to reveal a version of Trixie she had not yet had the pleasure of meeting.

Straight-from-the-gym Trixie apparently wore a pink velour jumpsuit, no makeup, her hair up in a ponytail, and radiated a tired kind of happiness.

Katya decided this Trixie was definitely one of the Trixies that she was attracted to.

“Move bitch, these are heavy,” Trixie squeezed past her, her gym bag slung over one shoulder, and carrying a grocery bag that looked about ready to burst, “we’re making goats’ cheese salad and scrambled eggs,” she called out behind herself, confidently striding into Katya’s kitchen.

Okay, maybe she wasn’t quite as attracted to post-gym Trixie as she’d believed at first glance.

Katya followed her into the kitchen, regardless.

“We’re making what?” Katya asked incredulously, “lettuce and eggs do not a breakfast make, we’re having toast.”

“It’s lunch,” Trixie stated, not even looking at Katya, “and you can have all the toast you want, babe but you won’t tempt me.” She dumped her grocery bag on the kitchen counter and removed her gym bag. Turning around she held it out, “can you put it in your room?” she asked, though it was clear this was more of a demand than a request.

Katya arched an eyebrow at her, “you can take it yourself.”

“I’m making you food, you’re taking my bag to your room.”

“Wow, you didn’t mention the new you would be a rotted cunt,” Katya laughed, taking Trixie’s bag, regardless.

The taller blonde shrugged with a smile, “the old me was, I don’t see a reason to change that,” turning back around to the counter she added, offhand, “maybe next year.”

It didn’t take them long to prepare the food. Trixie had brought an abundance of groceries intended to spruce up a salad and make it worth while, including grapes, walnuts, goats’ cheese, and honey. No matter how much she tried to persuade Katya (and perhaps herself) that this would make more than an adequate meal, Katya fried up some bacon and made herself two slices of toast to go with it. Trixie made faces at the meat, claiming that the smell caused by “carcass fumes” was infecting her salad and eggs, an argument that seamlessly carried on into their meal.

They were sat there, in the kitchen, Katya enjoying her substantially larger meal and Trixie trying not to feel envious of the white bread Katya was happily munching on.

“Dead pig,” she muttered, not entirely jokingly as Katya lined her bacon strips up on the piece of toast before piling on the scrambled eggs.

“I’d appreciate if you refrained from calling me names,” Katya retorted, lifting the piece of toast to her mouth and succeeding in making a right mess of both her plate and herself. “Besides,” she nodded her head towards Trixie’s plate, “cheese and eggs.”

Trixie gasped in mock offence. “Don’t you dare throw that in my face,” she said, “I can not accept my vegan fate at the same time as I embark on my fitness journey. I must first save my body, then save the planet.”

Katya just sat there smirking, they both knew she didn’t have strong feelings about veganism but Trixie did and so it was a decent card to pull.

“You know, you should try going vegetarian,” Trixie suggested in a way that was neither new nor hopeful. She’d long since given up on the idea that Katya’s moral compass, which was sketchy at the best of times, would somehow win out over the taste of meat. “Since you’re not saving your body, your schedule should be wide open to try and save the world. You know, try something new,” she shrugged.

“Why try new things when you can try nothing?” asked Katya around another mouthful.

Perhaps Trixie would have responded to that had there not been a resounding smack of what sounded like a person’s full body weight being slammed against Katya’s front door, followed by smothered laughter and the jingling of keys.

Trixie, her eyes wide, turned askance to Katya who simply rolled her eyes ever so slightly.

The sound of the door opening and swiftly closing was followed by a repeat of someone’s body hitting against it and laughter, half-swallowed up by kisses.

It wasn’t unheard of for Alaska and Sharon to turn up from some after party or other that had run through the night and well into the morning in a slight state. They usually preferred Sharon’s apartment for that, given that space was her own and not shared with someone else but did, on occasion, come back to Alaska’s place, whether because of misplaced keys, lack of forethought, or the location of the party from which they were headed.

Katya was relatively unfazed by the ruckus currently coming from the hallway but a quick glance at Trixie assured her the feeling was not shared by her companion so she decided to intervene. She knew from experience that Alaska and Sharon had no problem experimenting with locations outside of Alaska’s bedroom and was doubtful the thought of checking whether the apartment was empty would occur to either of them, especially given that their mental state was likely to be altered by chemicals of the less-than-legal variety.

“Are you planning on only giving us the sound bite or are we going to be treated to the whole show?” Katya called out to them, prompting another fit of slightly muffled giggles and the padding of bare feet that made their way closer, relatively unsteadily.

Alaska appeared first in the kitchen doorway, leaning against it slightly. Her makeup was smeared, her clothing askew, and her pupils noticeably dilated. Her long, thin legs were exposed up to mid-thigh and perpetually bruised in a way Alaska had once told her accompanied the rockstar life… or the groupie life. Katya wasn’t quite sure where that stood as Alaska had been performing less and less these days, instead accompanying Sharon to various “industry parties”, although Katya felt that title suggested a lot less drug use than she knew went on at said events.

“How much are you willing to pay for it?” Alaska asked, twisting her body back around to her girlfriend who looked only marginally less dishevelled.

Before Katya had a chance to reply Sharon crowded Alaska up against the doorway, nipping playfully at her jaw. “Not that you’re not worth every cent,” she breathed against her throat, “but I don’t feel inclined to share right now.”

Alaska’s eyelids fluttered as Sharon bit across her neck, prompting a breathy moan that indicated that despite her words Katya and Trixie just might be treated to the full show if they didn’t remove themselves from the situation quite hastily.

Sharon pressed Alaska harder up against the doorway, running her hands down her sides, to her ass, prompting Alaska to wrap her legs around her. The soles of her feet looked as though she might have walked barefoot the entire way home and Katya didn’t doubt that she would have, either because her shoes had been deemed too uncomfortable after wearing them for entirely too many hours or because they had been misplaced; sacrificed to the alter of the party gods as several previous possessions of Alaska’s had been before them.

Katya glanced at Trixie who seemed to be in a slight state of shock and then, purely for her benefit, delicately cleared her throat. “Should we make some popcorn?” she asked pointedly.

Sufficiently reminded of the presence of other people Sharon turned to grin slightly at Katya for the briefest of seconds before her eyes were tugged back to Alaska. “We’ll be in her room,” she almost growled, hoisting Alaska up and carrying her out of the sight of their audience.

“Don’t interrupt us unless there’s a fire,” Alaska called out.

“Maybe not even then,” Sharon threw in for good measure.

“It was nice to meet you,” Trixie called back but was only met with the slamming of Alaska’s bedroom door.

Katya barked out a laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation. “Okay,” she said, “I imagine we have about 20 seconds until we’re treated to the not-at-all censored soundtrack of those two going at it so I hope you’ve finished eating.”

Trixie threw her a look of amused disbelief before giving her a nod, “okay,” she said with a chuckle, “you know, it’s quite nice outside and I’m simply dying for some sun.” She stood up and started gathering their mostly empty plates before Katya stopped her.

“20 seconds,” she reminded her before a high moan punctured the air. “Maybe not even that,” she amended. “Leave the dishes, we don’t have time.”

Katya grabbed Trixie’s hand, pulling her out of the apartment and down the stairs, onto the street below where Trixie was finally overcome by giggles.

“That was absolutely ridiculous,” she wheezed out, freeing her hand from Katya’s grasp to dab delicately at corners of her eyes with her fingertips in a careful manner designed to avoid smudging her makeup. The fact that she wasn’t wearing any at the moment was immaterial, it had become a habit. “It’s like 12:30 pm, where the fuck were they coming from?”

“I have no idea,” Katya earnestly replied, “some party I presume, Sharon drags her to a lot of those although Alaska never seems unwilling.”

Trixie straightened up, a slightly dazed expression on her face, “oh, that really was Sharon Coady then,” she said, “I wasn’t sure.”

“Do you know her?” Katya asked, slightly perplexed.

“Not personally,” Trixie shrugged, taking Katya’s hand back in her own and heading on down the street. Katya didn’t know if they were headed anywhere in particular and she found she truly didn’t care. “I know some people who work with her, she’s apparently very talented, has a real eye for what will make a trend.”

Katya nodded.

Sharon’s career seemed to be on a trajectory, only going up, and Alaska had on multiple occasions mentioned the talk about her that was apparently circulating the fashion scene.

Trixie went on, “Some of my friends are astounded she hasn’t started her own label yet, say she’s one of the few people they’ve met who stands a real chance of actually breaking into the business on their own.”

When Katya first met Trixie she’d been surprised to find out how much she knew about the inner workings of almost every aspect of industry LA had to offer. She claimed it came from working in makeup and that in order to be good at her job she needed to keep her ear to the ground but Katya suspected it was more than that. Trixie respected people who were good at what they did. It didn’t matter if they were makeup artists, models, fashion designers or musicians. Trixie simply had an earnest respect and admiration for people who put their all into their work.

“Yeah,” Katya replied, “she claims that’s what the parties are about,” she expanded, “she’s pretty sure the label wouldn’t take well to her quitting so she wants to make sure she has her own connections if and when she burns that bridge. Claims she can’t break into the industry if people are too scared of RuPaul’s wrath to actually work with her.”

“That’s pretty smart of her,” Trixie agreed, “Ru can barely just be called a designer anymore, he’s almost a religious leader. I swear, it boarders on a cult. It’s very much a ‘you’re either in or you’re out’ kind of situation. Sharon’s wouldn’t be the first career not allowed to prosper because RuPaul decided she betrayed him.”

Katya shrugged. She wasn’t really all that familiar with the fashion industry, only really privy to what she’d gathered from her relatively limited interaction with Sharon, and what Alaska had let slip. Katya always did her level best to ignore the bitterness that sometimes lurked underneath Alaska’s comments. Although she couldn’t relate to their particular situation, she could empathise. It wasn’t long ago that Sharon had been struggling as hard as Alaska to gain recognition and, anyway, most of the time Alaska managed to radiate pure pride at her partner’s success.

“I’d be lying if I said I believed that was the only reason she attends the parties though,” Katya said, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess they don’t call her Sharon Needles for nothing,” Trixie said, laughing, “oh god, knowing me I’ll actually slip up and call her that to her face one day.”

“I doubt she’d mind,” Katya replied, “she and Alaska used to have this punk band when they were younger where that was legitimately her stage name. That’s actually where the name originated. Although from what I’ve seen she prefers rolled up bills to needles so the truth of it is debatable.”

Trixie shrieked her enjoyment, but Katya wasn’t done.

“In fact, she’s probably doing blow off Alaska’s tits right now,” she proclaimed, lips stretched wide in a smile that only grew wider in response to the grimace on Trixie's face. 

“I didn’t get out of the apartment just to have you describe what I’m missing,” her companion complained, nose all scrunched up in distaste. Katya fought down the urge to tell her just how beautiful it made her look.

“Without dirty thoughts, there are only dirty dishes,” she said instead, prompting an eye roll from her friend.

“You’re such an idiot,” Trixie replied but the fondness of her tone accompanied by the soft smile on her face caused a fluttering in Katya’s stomach, as though she had just been showered with the loveliest of compliments.

She simply smiled back, swinging their joined hands between them, and allowed Trixie to turn the conversation to some other hopeful designer whose name Katya had never heard.

It didn’t matter though.

She made the appropriate noises of interest and laughed when the anecdotes warranted it, and although the topic wasn’t something she had a particular interest in she found that her reactions weren’t feigned.

The truth is, she suspected she could listen to Trixie read aloud from the phone book for hours without getting bored; each name and number as fascinating to her as the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up that I will need to devote most of my time these next couple of weeks to writing my thesis in order to make my deadlines so I probably won't be able to update for a little while. Sorry!
> 
> Also, thanks to everyone who has commented! Your comments make the hours spent at school, struggling through research, much more bearable.


End file.
